


sleepless cinderella - ten

by starlightkun



Series: sleepless cinderella (wayv) [3]
Category: NCT (Band), WAYV
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Journalist Reader, NOTHING GRPAHIC, Sad with a Happy Ending, Suicide mention, Surgeon Ten, a happy ending I promise, death mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26563126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightkun/pseuds/starlightkun
Summary: in which your true path comes with a lot of difficulties
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Reader
Series: sleepless cinderella (wayv) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1931839
Kudos: 42





	sleepless cinderella - ten

Rain pattered against the window of the bus you were on, lulling you into a dreamy, calm trance as your eyes followed stray drops racing down the glass. Every breath you exhaled fogged up a small circle on it, one that disappeared almost as soon as it formed. The sounds of the other passengers were irrelevant to you, a steady hum in the background of one ear while the other had an earbud in, music playing quietly.

You weren’t quite focusing on a single thing in that moment. It felt like a whole lot of nothing with the same notion hovering as it had been in the back of your mind for the past week. It was there even when you weren’t thinking about it, even when you didn’t acknowledge that it was there, you knew it was.

It was like wearing glasses. You knew that they were there, even though you didn’t always register them, you weren’t always aware of them being there, but you still _knew_ they were. If you took more than a second to pause, the frames would come back in your vision and you would be suddenly hyperaware of their presence.

The pair of glasses that had been over your consciousness was your article.

Or, lack thereof.

And there you were, suddenly strikingly aware of it. With a disgruntled sigh at having been taken out of your brief state of false ignorance, you brought your phone up from your lap, turning the screen on.

Quickly, you pulled up a familiar webpage: the official site of New Perceptions, your school’s own student-run journal. It had been an integral part of your first four years of college. It was overseen by Professor Zhang, but entirely operated by undergrad students. Most were journalism students, as you had been. You were even the editor-in-chief your senior year. But now as a graduate student, you could no longer have an active hand, it was supposed to be a learning experience for the undergraduates. The most you could do was guest write columns or articles, which you had done on the occasion. Many of your earlier works were housed on the website—as well as in the physical copies stored in your apartment. You found yourself searching your own name in the search bar.

Maybe reading some of your greatest hits would give you inspiration for the next one.

Skimming over the titles, you felt compelled to click on one from over four years ago. Your sophomore year, when you were still finding your journalistic voice. It was a more toned-down and uncontroversial article than most that you’d written later. A critical, hard-hitting thinkpiece entitled ‘Thomas Edison Was A Crook and Kind of a Jerk.’ The original title actually called him a little bitch, but Yixing, your editor-in-chief at the time, thought it could do with some tweaking.

Admittedly, not the most intense article, but you remembered thoroughly enjoying your researching into the topic and that the actual writing process had flowed so easily. It was a genuinely fun piece to write and got more attention than you thought it would.

You’d just started reading the first topic of the article—that he didn’t actually invent the lightbulb—when your phone rang. The notification took up your whole screen, an incoming call from Professor Zhang.

Quickly accepting the call, you greeted her, “Hello, Professor Zhang.”

“Hey, Y/N. How have you been doing?” She asked.

You were a little caught off-guard. It wasn’t that your professor didn’t care about her students, just that she usually didn’t randomly call to check in and catch up.

“I’ve been alright, thanks.”

Before you could politely ask her the same, she spoke again, “How far along are you in your article?”

You chewed on your lip, having a short internal debate before deciding to tell her the truth, “Not very well, Professor. I don’t even have a subject.”

“Perfect, I think I may have something interesting for you. A representative from Gleneagles called my office line about doing a piece on one of their surgeons. They requested you, specifically. Would you be up for it?”

“Of course!” Your interest was definitely piqued, but you did have a slight doubt, “But why would they request me?”

“That’s something you’ll have to ask Dr. Li Yongqin, he’s the surgeon you’ll be interviewing.”

After getting all the details from your professor for the initial meeting with your new subject, you flopped back into your seat with a satisfied elation. Your eyes looked to the sign at the front of the bus that told you what stop you were coming up on. One several miles after your own— you’d missed yours. And looking outside, the light rain had turned into a full downpour. With no umbrella, you stepped off the bus still grinning.

* * *

Chewing on the inside of your cheek in anticipation, you double-checked the address Professor Zhang had given you. Sure, you were twenty minutes early, so there was really no reason for you to be worrying quite yet. You were seated at a high-top of a little café. It was just a few blocks from Gleneagles, which you were guessing was why Dr. Li had chosen it, he must be meeting you before, after, or between shifts. Ever since you’d left your apartment, you’d been mentally rehearsing what you would say to him: how you would introduce yourself, thank him for doing the interview with you, everything.

In front of you was the water you had ordered almost fifteen minutes ago, sweating profusely and about a third of the way gone. Your fingertips messed with the edges of your notebook, pencil tucked behind your ear. Beside the notebook was a small device, your voice recorder that you’d been gifted by your grandmother when you first went off to college. You hadn’t used it much, but it seemed only proper that you brought it now.

Movement from the entrance caught your eye. You’d sat just where you could see the door, glancing up at every newcomer to see if it was your subject.

This time, to your surprise, it was a familiar face, sharply changing course as soon as he spotted you; broad, heart-stopping grin greeting you with equally bright eyes.

“Hey, Y/N!” Ten approached your table.

“Oh, hey Ten,” you took in the white coat draping his shoulders. “Did you just get off work?”

“Nope, lunch break,” he confidently sat in the seat across from you.

Shifting nervously, you kept glancing over at the door, “I’m sorry Ten, but I’m waiting for someone right now, it’s really important.”

“Oh really? Who are you waiting for?”

“I’ve been offered an interview for my final article. You know, the one that will pretty much _determine my entire career_ ,” you emphasized the importance of it, slowly losing your patience with the man. “Which is why you _really_ need to leave before he gets here—”

“It’s going to determine your entire career?”

“Yes, so _please_ —”

“Guess I’ve got to do well then, huh?”

Finally, your eyes stayed focused on him for longer than a second, stopping their constant, anxious flitting back and forth between Ten and the door.

“What?”

Ten had a smug grin across his face as he leaned back in the chair comfortably, “If your whole career rests on this interview, I’ve got to make it a good one then.”

It finally struck you, and with a heavy sigh, you surmised, “You’re Dr. Li Yongqin?”

“In the flesh,” he confirmed with a deep smirk and by unclipping his badge from his coat to bring it closer for you to be able to read the name. ‘Dr Li Yongqin’ was printed clearly across it. And Dr. Li Yongqin seemed absolutely delighted at the short run-around he’d given you.

“Li Yongqin is your real name, then?”

“Nope, it’s Ten.”

“What?”

“I was—” He got cut off by the waiter coming to your table to take your orders.

After the waiter left, you gestured for Ten to wait before continuing his explanation, taking a quick moment to turn your voice recorder on and bring your pencil out of your hair.

“Okay, go on.”

“I was born in Thailand, but my family is Chinese, so I have three names. Well actually, four.”

This guy was sounding more interesting by the minute.

“And what are they?”

“Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul is my birth name,”

You weren’t even going to try to spell that in the moment, writing a note to ask for the spelling from him later.

“But in Thai culture you’re also given a nickname and that’s what everyone calls you— mine is Ten,”

So far it made sense, you’d met him around his friends, in a comfortable scenario, of course he’d be called his preferred nickname there.

“My Chinese name is Li Yongqin, the one given to your professor,”

At this, your eyes flashed up to him, hopefully conveying your annoyance at being deceived.

“And I have a Korean name too, from when I studied there during medical school, Lee Younghuem.”

This man really did have four names. And studied in Korea, you made another note to ask him about his experiences there.

You questioned, “So what am I supposed to call you, then?”

“Ten is just fine.”

“What do your patients call you? It can’t be Dr. Ten, right?”

He chuckled lightly at the idea of that, “No, I’m Dr. Li to them.”

“Then shouldn’t I call you Dr. Li as well?”

“Am I performing surgery on you?”

“This is a professional setting.”

“Is it?”

He was clearly enjoying your back and forth over the matter.

You held back the very intense urge to roll your eyes at the man, “Why did you ask that I interview you?”

“Is that a normal interview question?”

Setting your pencil and notepad down, you also turned your voice recorder off. Ten’s eyebrows shot up at this.

“I have a right to know,” you declared.

“Why does it matter?”

“Because you’ve already rigged a raffle to interact with me because you thought I was pretty or something, I’m wondering if you rigged this because of that too.”

“Nope,” he shook his head resolutely. “You’d mentioned you were a journalism student, I did a cursory Google search and found the stuff you’ve published in your school’s journal. It’s genuinely good. I never knew Thomas Edison was such a bastard.”

His mention of your article on Thomas Edison brought credibility to his story, softening your suspicions as he continued, “I ‘rigged’ this because of your skills, not your looks. But I am glad that you acknowledge that you’re pretty.”

Satisfied with his answer, you nodded in acknowledgement before addressing his last sentence, “Really professional, Dr. Li.”

“You brought it up first, Ms. Y/L/N.”

He was right, but you weren’t about to admit that. Taking in your exasperation, he shifted to sit forward in his seat, resting his forearms on the table, hands clasped together in a very business-like manner.

“Alright, alright,” he relented. “I’ll be professional, if you call me Ten.”

You stuck a hand out towards him, “Shake on it.”

Ten grasped your hand, giving it one firm shake before leaning back in his seat again, “Okay, so what’s your first question for me?”

* * *

Just a couple days later found you in the VIP lounge, legs tucked underneath you as you sat in the corner of one of the plush couches. Your notebook was in your lap and pencil in hand as you listened to Ten. He was sat in the middle of the couch, body turned to face you and arm resting across the back of the couch. You were well aware of how close his hand was to you, relying on your voice recorder placed on the cushion between the two of you as some kind of boundary. Not that Ten’s proximity made you _uncomfortable_ , but he was almost startlingly beautiful up close, and you had to stay back for your own good.

Like now, Ten had been telling you about the procedure he’d done at the hospital late last night, and instead of actually paying attention to what he was saying, you were transfixed on his pink lips.

Hearing that he had paused—clearly waiting for a response from you—you dumbly nodded and offered a non-committal noise, pretending to write something down. Thank God you had your voice recorder, you could listen to the story again later.

“Y/N, I asked how your day was. And—” he then imitated the noise you’d made “—is not an answer.”

“Sorry, a lot on my mind,” you shook your head, offering him a tight-lipped smile. “My day has been okay, thanks for asking.”

“Okay? Why hasn’t it been _great_?”

“Because nothing _great_ has happened,” you informed him with a short sigh before changing the topic. “Now, tell me about your team.”

“You’re with _me_ , isn’t that great?”

“Not when you don’t answer my questions.”

“Ouch, okay. I’ll tell you about my team.”

And so you carefully took down notes as he spoke, compiling a fairly thorough list of his operating team:

\- _Duan Aojuan:_ was his protégé and now does her own surgeries; will occasionally still assist him on bigger operations

\- _Wang Linkai:_ the only anesthesiologist he trusts to give patients proper dosages as to not wake up while being sliced open

\- _Li Quanzhe:_ the only surgical tech he trusts to make sure the room is properly prepared and everything is sanitized

\- _Lai Meyun:_ his current top resident and choice pick for assisting him during surgeries; gets annoyed at Ten’s tendency to banter over open chest cavities

\- _Zhu Zhengting:_ the operating nurse who is the real linchpin in the OR; makes sure they cut the right thing

\- _Li Yingchao:_ used to be his top resident choice until he threw up on poor Wang Linkai during a particularly gory surgery months ago and has only recently been allowed back in the OR, but only to observe

After he had finished with the horrible story of Yingchao throwing up on Linkai, you had half a smile on your lips as you finished scribbling it down, “Sounds like you could make a sitcom out of you and your team.”

“Yeah, they’re special,” Ten agreed. “You should come by the hospital and meet them sometime. I would’ve recommended a dinner, but the only time all of us are off is in an alternate dimension.”

“I might have to take you up on that offer, it’d be good for the article.”

“Although maybe you shouldn’t meet Aojuan, she has way too many embarrassing stories of me. Zhengting too, he’s been there longer than I have, saw me during my residency days. Those were dark times.”

“I’ll make sure to specifically ask for them then,” you said only somewhat teasingly, a fond smile resting across your features as Ten chuckled.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” he shook his head.

You jerked both your thumbs at yourself as you declared, “Nothing can get by _this_ journalist.”

“Not even some long-dead inventor.”

“Who shocked innocent animals just to discredit his competitor!”

“And pirated movies—”

“Causing a man to become bankrupt!”

“And—”

“Helped to build the first electric chair despite saying he was against capital punishment, using it as a ploy to discredit his competitor!”

Ten was grinning as you got even more worked up over it, “I love how fired up you’re getting about this.”

A deep flush came to your cheeks at his comment, and you shifted your limbs around momentarily before trying to refocus the conversation, “My bad. Interview. So how did—”

You were cut off by the elevator _ding!_ ing, momentarily distracting you as you looked past Ten’s head to see who was entering the lounge. Qian Kun was stepping off the elevator, presumably having just gotten off a flight, as he was still in his pilot’s uniform and tugging a small suitcase behind him.

“Oh, hey, Y/N,” he greeted you as he walked behind the couch to drop his hat on the bar and tuck his suitcase underneath it. “It’s good to see you using the lounge. The guys said they hadn’t seen you around, we were all kind of worried that we’d scared you off.”

“All?” You asked doubtfully, to which the pilot chuckled.

“You’re right, Hendery didn’t really give a shit.”

“Sicheng did?”

He walked around behind the bar as he answered, “After Dejun smacked it into him.”

“Dejun didn’t smack it into Hendery?”

“Nope, Yangyang did.”

You were smiling as you then backtracked to return his greeting, “It’s good to see you again, Kun.”

“You too,” he momentarily ducked down below the bar, returning with a glass and bottle of dark liquor. “You guys want some?”

You shook your head, declining politely, “No, but thank you.”

Ten gestured to his white coat draped over the arm of the couch, “I’m technically on call right now.”

“Speaking of,” Kun refocused his attention back to you as he took his drink to the armchair closest to your end of the couch. “I’m glad you’re in the lounge, Y/N, but slightly concerned that you’re here with Ten.”

“Hey!” The doctor was immediately offended at his friend’s words. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, taking a sip of his drink.

Stepping in to explain, you said, “I’m interviewing Ten for my final article for my program. And I’m also curious as to what you meant, Kun.”

The man simply waggled his eyebrows before downing the rest of the glass in one go, “Ah! That’s what I needed. Zeren almost fucking crashed us into the ocean today.”

“Is he your co-pilot?”

“Yeah, my usual guy, Minghui was out sick for this flight, so I got landed with this kid fresh out of flight school. Almost killed us.”

Kun sank further back and down in his seat as he explained, bringing his hands up to rub at his temples. Then he stood up, grabbing his glass to take it to the bar again, “I need another drink.”

“You’re going to kill your liver,” Ten pointed out teasingly.

“It’s two drinks, not to mention that I haven’t drank in like three months, so _piss off_ , Ten.”

Despite their rather biting words towards each other, the lasting smile on Ten’s face and existence of only _mild_ annoyance in Kun’s features made you believe that they were rather close. A kind of frenemy relationship, perhaps.

Remembering your moral obligations, you piped up, “Oh, Kun, I have my voice recorder going right now, by the way. Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah,” the man consented, pouring out another glass. “Quote me verbatim: I fucking hate Li Yongqin.”

“Ouch, that hurts, Kun-Kun,” Ten pouted.

“I still haven’t forgiven you for the Diet Coke incident.”

Kun flopped down on the armchair again as the man beside you rolled his eyes, “That was literally seven years ago!”

“What’s the Diet Coke incident?” You questioned cautiously, observing how the tension went up between them again.

Kun started off, “This asshole—”

“Oh my god.”

“Shut up, Ten!” The pilot took a deep breath before starting again, “We were roommates at boarding school, along with Sicheng and Xiaojun, so we shared a refrigerator in our dorm. I was the _only one_ who drank Diet Coke out of the four of us. One day we were all playing video games, and I paused it to get myself a Diet Coke. The last one, mind you. But Ten jumped up and offered to get it for me. Said he’d even open it for me. He opened it, then proceeded to gulp half of it down in one go! He didn’t even _like_ Diet Coke, he just wanted to ruin my life!”

“Oh my god…” you breathed out.

Ten scoffed, “I know, he’s being ridiculous—”

“Li Yongqin, you monster!” You rounded on the man on the couch with you, his eyes widening drastically as you scolded him. “The poor boy’s last Diet Coke? A drink that you don’t even like?”

“What the fuck is happening?”

“I’m being vindicated, that’s what!” Kun shouted out victoriously.

“I can’t believe this.”

Ten’s pager going off saved him from further scolding from the two of you, as he immediately took the chance to leap up from the couch, “Oh, that’s me! Being paged! Back to the hospital! Away from you two! See ya!”

He fervently pushed the button to summon the elevator. As the doors opened, he gave you a final nod and goodbye, “I’ll see you later, Y/N! I’ll text you the next time I’m off shift!”

With that, the doors closed in front of him, leaving you in the lounge with Kun.

* * *

“Hey, Yi?” You called out from the doorway of your bedroom into the rest of your apartment, knowing that wherever she was in the small space, she’d be able to hear you.

“Yeah?” She yelled back, sounding like she was in the kitchen.

“Can you come tell me if this outfit matches?”

“Sure.”

Returning to your place in front of your mirror, you nervously smoothed out the tuck of your blouse into your pants. It was a rather nice outfit, just a few notches below the ensemble you’d worn to the first party at the Qian Enterprises building. You heard her footsteps nearing your room, ending with a ‘woah’ right from the entrance of it.

“Good woah or bad woah?”

“Good woah,” she confirmed, plopping down onto your bed to observe you, still with a thoughtful look of surprise across her face. “I thought you were just meeting up with that doctor guy again?”

“I am.”

“Looks like you’re going on a hot date.”

“Well, Ten keeps choosing these really nice restaurants to meet up at. I can’t show up looking like a broke college student.”

“Oh, _Ten_ keeps choosing really nice restaurants?” Her surprise turned into a deep, teasing smirk that you could see very clearly behind you in the mirror as you continued fidgeting with your outfit.

“Yeah,” you narrowed your eyes suspiciously at her reflection.

“And does he pay the bill, too?”

“I tip.”

“Uh-huh. And does he give you rides to and/or from these really nice restaurants?”

“He’s offered.”

“Have you accepted?”

“What are you going on about, Yi?”

Xuanyi giggled satisfactorily, seeming to know something that you don’t.

“Wu Xuanyi, what is it?”

“Give me a second,” she said, tapping a few things on her phone. Apparently, she had video called someone, as you could hear the ringing tone coming through her speakers.

Curiosity got the best of you, and you walked over to her to look at the screen. She was calling your other roommate.

“Xiao’s at work, she’s not going to—”

Your doubtful words were cut off by Chengxiao picking up the call, her bright and inquisitive features filling Xuanyi’s screen. You sat down next to Xuanyi in defeat.

“What’s up, Yi? Oh hi Y/N! What’s up, guys?”

“I just want to ask your opinion on something,” Xuanyi explained her reason for calling.

“What is it?”

“If someone were to be insisting on having what are supposed to be business meetings almost every day, at very nice restaurants, paying for the other person, and offering to give them rides to and from these very nice restaurants, what would you say is really going on?”

Despite asking Chengxiao this question, Xuanyi was giving you a very pointed look, one which made your eyes roll.

“Oh, they’re using the business meetings to cover up the fact that they really want to spend time with the other person!” She said this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Pseudo-dates because they haven’t asked the other person on a real date. Or can’t, for some reason.” Chengxiao’s voice turned dreamy as she added, “Like some kind of forbidden romance, ugh— that’d be _so cute_!”

“Thanks, Xiao,” Xuanyi replied smugly.

“Who are these theoretical people?”

“Take a wild guess.”

The girl on the phone gasped loudly, “Is it Ten and Y/N? Aw, that’s adorable, Y/N! He’s making excuses to see you because he knows you’re way too focused on this article! It’s the only way he can spend time with you!”

Your face was hot as she kept cooing over the situation, self-conscious fire spreading from your cheeks out to your neck and ears.

“Shut up, guys!” You hissed, only succeeding in making them cackle with delight.

“Thank you again, Chengxiao! Have a good shift!” Xuanyi said goodbye to your friend, receiving an elated farewell in response.

After hanging up, the girl currently with you tilted her head, clearly satisfied with herself. You couldn’t deny the predicament you found yourself in. You’d had those suspicions yourself but didn’t want to put much thought into it. Because if you did, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it. And you needed to get this article done. But in just a few swift minutes, Xuanyi had thrown all of that out the goddamn window.

A short sigh came out your nostrils as you gave her a frank look before standing up from your bed. Grabbing your phone from where it was charging on your nightstand, you started making shooing motions at Xuanyi, “Now get out of my room.”

“Harsh, Y/N,” she mocked offense, but nonetheless obliged.

You followed her out, closing your door behind you, “I’m leaving as well.”

“Off to your hot date?”

“Off to my _interview_ ,” you corrected her, waving your notebook, pencil, and voice recorder in her face purposefully.

“Sure.”

Your phone buzzed from your back pocket, and Xuanyi was unfortunately quicker than you, securing it in her hands before you could even try.

“Ten says he’s here! So he _is_ giving you rides.”

There was no dissuading Xuanyi once she’d caught onto a scent, much like a bloodhound.

“Only this time, I’m on his way to the restaurant.”

“I doubt that,” she tucked it back into your pocket for you. “Have fun on your hot date!”

As you moved for your front door, you threatened, “Call it that one more time and I’ll turn off the hot water valve next time you shower.”

Right before the door closed behind you, you heard her yell out, “Hot date! Hot date! Y/N has a hot date!”

You could still hear her taunts muffled through the door as you shook your head to yourself. You didn’t have time to deal with her right now, you had a _business meeting_ to get to.

* * *

Settled in at your table at the new restaurant Ten had chosen, you unfortunately couldn’t get Xuanyi and Chengxiao’s words out of your mind. Your voice recorder was set up between the two of you as per usual, and you hadn’t done more than make small talk. In a momentary reprieve, Ten skimmed the menu and you pretended to do so as well. But in reality, the words were swimming in front of your eyes as your thoughts were a bit preoccupied. Was Ten really using the interview as an excuse to see you? That would require the premise of Ten being too shy to actually ask you out—and you highly doubted that this man had ever experienced an ounce of shame or bashfulness in his life.

Unless he was messing with you again. Giving you a run-around like he had at the very beginning of your interview. Enjoying watching your own doubt and confusion.

Well aware that you’d been staring at him for a tad too long, you flicked your eyes back down to your menu. Too late, as Ten cleared his throat.

“Have something to ask me, Y/N?”

“It’s an interview, it would be a bit weird if I didn’t, right?” You countered; voice weak despite your strong words and desperately trying to buy yourself more time to come with a professional and reasonable question.

“Ask away, then.”

You wracked your brain for one but couldn’t even come up with a lame and trite one. Only two came to your mind, and you went with the one that seemed the least… romantically inclined.

“How did you manage to rig the raffle so I’d win?”

He cocked an eyebrow up at this question, setting his menu down on the table to fully focus on you, “I didn’t, just had a good feeling about it. And about you.”

Doubt was still in your mind, “The other guys are pretty sure you rigged it somehow.”

Ten shifted forward in his seat, leaning closer to you, narrowing the space put between you two by the table, “Don’t you believe in fate just a little bit, Y/N? Can’t you just accept that it wasn’t my own devious doings that brought us together? Just serendipity?”

Your breath was stolen from your lungs as he focused those warm but intense eyes on you, gaze unfaltering and paired with the slightest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Sure, you didn’t know everything about the universe or a higher power or fate, but this all felt too perfectly orchestrated.

Before you could offer any semblance of a reply, your waiter approached your table, Ten eased back into his seat and finally took his eyes off you to put in his order.

There was no doubt in your mind that he was messing with you now. He was enjoying the game, testing you to see how long it would take you to catch onto him. You didn’t want him to know that you’d figured him out quite yet.

After putting in your own order, you continued with simple interview questions, “Are all your piercings allowed in your workplace?”

“Not technically, but as long as I’m not operating an MRI, my supervisor lets it slide.”

“An MRI would rip them out of your ears, right?”

“Yep, it’s a giant magnet. My earrings are metal. Not a great combination.”

“Good thing you’re just a surgeon then. It sounds like it would hurt.”

“ _Just_ a surgeon?”

“Poor choice of words, sorry.”

His eyes narrowed just the tiniest bit as you quickly brushed over it and continued on.

“How old are you, Ten?”

An innocent enough question, especially when paired with your wide eyes and eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly.

But he was starting to catch onto you, “Why?”

“Well, medical school takes a while, right? Add onto that residencies, internships, the training it takes to get into a specialty, then to rise to the top in your expertise. That takes time. You’ve got to be what, 40 by now?

“Do I _look_ 40 to you, Y/N?” He pursed his lips as he crossed his arms.

You continued blinking innocently, desperately trying to squash the smile threatening to break your façade.

“You’re messing with me,” Ten finally declared after a brief stare down.

You continued feigning innocence, “Am I?”

“Yeah, you are.”

“Now, why would I be doing that? I couldn’t _possibly_ have a reason for playing games with you, could I?”

Slowly, his features changed bit-by-bit from annoyance to realization to genuine glee, blinding grin overtaking his scowl and eyes transforming into delighted crescents, “Alright, you got me, Y/N. I’ve met my match.”

But you still weren’t satisfied, “I got you on _what_?”

“Oh come on, you’re not going to make me say it.” It wasn’t a statement of complaint, more-so an issuing of a challenge to you.

“Yeah,” you picked up your voice recorder, thrusting the mic towards him. “I am. Loud and clear.”

Despite being backed into a corner, it was confirmed to you that this man had _definitely_ never even _heard_ of shame or embarrassment, and instead seemed to be genuinely enjoying you pushing him even further. Apparently, he liked to be messed with as much as he liked messing with other people.

“You got me on the fact that I was messing with you. Pretending that these were for the interview when I really just wanted to spend time with you.”

“And?” You weren’t going to let him off with sounding that sweet.

“And I teased you and flirted with you during them because you’re really cute when you get flustered.”

Your resolve was cracking, an unwanted heat rising to the surface along your cheeks.

“Like now,” he pointed out victoriously.

You quickly clicked the voice recorder off then, setting it back onto the table and securing your glass of water in your hand. Hopefully the cold water would aid in lessening the appearance of your blush. As you avoided Ten’s gaze, you wondered to yourself: Now what?

“Well?” Ten prompted you.

“ _‘Well’_ what?”

“Are you messing with me again?”

“No, I want to make sure there’s no confusion between us. So spell it out for me, Ten.”

He delicately picked your voice recorder back up, pressing the ‘on’ button again before pointing the mic right at you. You raised your eyebrows and watched him do this with interest.

“Y/N. Y/L/N Y/N.”

“Do you have to be so melodramatic?”

“Yes. Now, I say this with as much adoration as possible: could you shut up for a second?”

You made the motion of zipping your lips closed and throwing away the key, gesturing for him to continue.

“Y/L/N Y/N. Despite me being a little shit at first—which I cannot guarantee will stop—would you do me the honor of going on a real date with me?”

A fond smile crossed your lips, and you nodded.

Ten rolled his eyes, “Unzip your mouth, Y/N.”

You made the opposite motion you did before, then said, “Yes, I will, Ten. And I can also not guarantee that I’ll stop being a little shit.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

* * *

It took quite a few dates for you to tell the rest of the lounge members about you and Ten. After all, you wanted to be sure of exactly what you two were doing before telling anyone else. You still didn’t quite have a firm grasp on it yourself but felt secure enough in your relationship to tell them. And your roommates, who were now never going to call you and Ten meeting up as anything other than a ‘hot date.’ They weren’t wrong, but it was still annoying.

On a rare night that all eight members of the VIP lounge were together, you were smushed between Ten and Yangyang on the couch. The main reason for the smushing being that on the other side of Yangyang was Yukhei, who was by no means small. But you didn’t mind it so much, and Ten especially didn’t mind it, taking every chance he could to be physically affectionate with you.

Yukhei was in the middle of recounting his latest exploration of some distant mountain peaks when Hendery interrupted him.

“We’re out of beer,” the engineer deadpanned.

He was right, the table in front of you was evidence of the twelve-pack that the eight of you had made quick work of.

“Then go get more,” Sicheng snorted in reply.

Before the younger one could come up with anything snarky to say back, Ten detached himself from you to stand up, “I’ll get it.”

“I thought you said drinking was going to kill our livers?” Kun reminded him as he walked across the room to the storage closet.

“I would’ve killed myself before the alcohol even had a chance if I had to listen to those two bitch at each other for the next thirty minutes.”

As your boyfriend disappeared into the storage room, you were able to stretch your limbs out on the couch a little bit. Yangyang suddenly seemed to get an idea, switching from whatever social media he had been scrolling down to his gallery, “Y/N, I have something to show you.”

Dejun perked up at this, mischievous look mirroring his friend’s, “Is it—?”

“Yep.”

Mildly confused, you watched Yangyang finally reach whatever he was looking for, tapping the play button on the video and scooting closer to properly show it to you. Squinting, you were able to recognize the lone figure on the stage. It was Ten, younger and dressed in all black, but definitely Ten. You could hear faint music playing in the background through Yangyang’s speakers and the on-screen Ten then moved. It wasn’t just movement, it was dance; an elegant, powerful, and intense dance.

Still enraptured by the video, you barely registered Ten reemerging from the storage closet until Dejun greeted him knowingly.

“Hiya, Ten!”

You looked up at your boyfriend who had just walked back into the lounge, another twelve-pack in hand, your own voice filled with awe, “You dance, Ten?”

Taking stock of Yangyang leaning closer and displaying his phone screen to you, it was easy for Ten to figure out what had prompted you to ask that, “Yangyang showed you the video from the talent show I did my senior year, didn’t he?”

“Yep!” Yangyang said proudly, turning his phone back off.

“I needed an elective,” Ten shrugged nonchalantly, setting the beers down on the table in the center and starting to clear some of the empty bottles off.

“And you also minored in it in college,” Kun pointed out.

He hummed noncommittally as he disposed of the bottles and returned back to the center, not sitting down yet, “Maybe so.”

“Do you still practice?” You were still gazing up at him in wonder. “I’d love to see it sometime.”

“Really?” Ten’s eyes locked on yours with a certain intensity that changed the whole tone of the room. It took only a couple steps for him to be standing between your legs, eyes never leaving your own.

Yangyang blurted out in a tone that was meant to be joking but betrayed his true horror at what he had unintentionally started, “I’m making the executive decision to stop this conversation here before Ten starts giving Y/N a lap dance!”

With the tension immediately broken, you wrinkled your nose in feigned disappointment, slowly reaching a hand towards Ten’s thigh, “Aw, I’d like to see that.”

“Really?” Ten repeated, having not left his spot between your legs, but clearly aiding you in poking fun at Yangyang this time— which the boy didn’t pick up on.

“Okay nope! Nope! Definitely, _definitely_ changing the subject now!” The panic was evident in his voice as he physically turned his body away from you and Ten to face the others, “How was your day, Dejun? Mine was great, nothing weird or sexual or uncomfortable happened at all. How about you, Sicheng?”

As Ten dropped onto the couch beside you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, the two of you were laughing at your friend’s reaction. Your shoulders shook as you practically cackled, desperately trying to calm yourself down so you didn’t cry laughing. But it was the crack in Yangyang’s voice when he had said Sicheng’s name that really did you in. Ten wasn’t laughing as hard as you, instead pulling you closer into his side and shushing you between his own short snickers. With the bridge of his nose pressed against your forehead, his mouth resting just at the tip of your own nose and his arm keeping you close to his chest to muffle your cackles, you felt an airy warmth blossoming throughout your body.

The other members seemed to also be finding it amusing, some less than others. Kun declared with a sigh, “You two are insufferable together.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you guys scarred Yang for life,” Yukhei agreed, but not without a faint chuckle laced throughout his words.

“Or gave him masturbation material for the next month,” Ten joked quietly, moving his mouth right next to your ear to make sure you were the only one who heard him.

A couple of your other friends asked what he had said that made you literally wheeze out a ‘Stop!’, slap his thigh, and then proceed to laugh to the point where you were silent, tears now freely falling down your cheeks. But you couldn’t answer them, chest feeling light and tingly as you were too lost in your own little bubble with Ten, who definitely was _not_ going to fess up to what he just said.

* * *

This was it. Today was the day. The day you were finally taking Ten up on his previous offer of you coming to the hospital and meeting his team. Or, at least the ones on shift at that time.

You’d woken up at an ungodly hour of the morning in order to go in with him for his shift at five. According to him, the best time for you to go in to maximize your ability to talk to them was then, when it would theoretically be the least chaotic and busy. Their first surgery was set to be at seven, giving you a little bit of time while they prepped for and started their pre-op duties. Of course, you would reach a point where you’d had to leave for safety reasons, but until then, you were determined to get as much out of these people as possible. And also meet your boyfriend’s co-workers or something like that.

Clinging to your boyfriend’s arm, you desperately wiped the sleep out of your eyes. Waking up to him peppering your face with kisses was nice, but that still didn’t make the fact that it was _three forty-five_ when he did so any less true.

“How the hell are you so awake?” You grumbled, trudging down the halls with him.

“Let’s get you some coffee from the doctors’ lounge, Y/N,” he patted your head affectionately, leading you down another corridor. “It’s much better than the stuff in the cafeteria.”

You forced yourself to click your voice recorder on, blearily shifting into interview mode, “Say that again for the record?”

“You look like a zombie, so we’re getting you coffee from the doctors’ lounge instead of the cafeteria because the stuff in the cafeteria is dirt water.”

“A zombie?”

“A very cute zombie,” he reassured you, stopping to push a door open for you.

Begrudgingly, you let go of his arm to allow him to approach the coffee maker. You stood just past the doorway to observe your surroundings. The doctors’ lounge was nicely furnished, a couple couches in front of a TV, a small kitchen on the other side. Sitting at the countertop that separated the two areas was a woman who looked up from her bowl of cereal at you with interest.

She briefly looked between you and Ten, who was pouring coffee into a pastel pink mug for you.

“Are you Y/N?”

“Yes,” you confirmed, gesturing to the stool beside her. “Would you mind?”

“Absolutely not,” her eyes were practically glittering as she watched you sit down. “I’m Duan Aojuan, I work with Dr. Li.”

“Yeah, you’re like his protégé. I’m Y/L/N Y/N, but it seems that Ten’s already told you about me.” You then leaned a little closer to her and lowered your voice, “Ten didn’t want me to meet you because he says you’ve got a lot of embarrassing stories of him.”

Aojuan’s face lit up before her voice turned conspiratorial as well, “Plenty. Remind me to introduce you to Zhengting, too. Actually, I’m going to page him here right now.”

“I already regret this,” Ten sighed, placing your coffee in front of you on the counter, paired with a gentle hand on the small of your back.

“Oh! Aojuan, just so you know, I have a voice recorder going right now. Is that okay with you?”

At her confused look, Ten chuckled from beside you, gently reminding you, “Y/N, babe, I know you’re tired, but most people don’t just record every conversation they have. Maybe explain to her why.”

“I’m a college student, I’m used to functioning on less sleep than this,” you scowled at him, taking a sip of your coffee before continuing. “And I was about to, when you cut me off.”

Ten was unfazed by the elbow you gently jutted into his stomach, resting an arm around your shoulders as you refocused on Aojuan.

“I’m a journalism student, and my final article is on Ten, and I wanted to include information on and from the people he works with. Is it alright if I record and include you in my article?”

“Oh, sure! Could you just keep my name out of the article?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Just then, the door to the lounge opened and in stepped another man, this time not donning the white coats that Ten and Aojuan had, but simply in his pale blue scrubs.

“Aojuan? You paged me? Said it was urgent—” as his gaze landed on you and Ten, his eyes grew wide and he immediately rushed to sit on the other side of Aojuan. “Oh, this _is_ urgent. I’m Zhu Zhengting, and you must be Y/N.”

“You two are so melodramatic,” Ten scoffed, to which you snorted.

“You’re not really one to talk, Ten. Do you _want_ me to bring out the recording of how you asked me out?”

“You recorded him asking you out?” Zhengting repeated, taken aback.

Aojuan thankfully explained it for you, “She’s a journalism student and is doing an article on Dr. Li, so she’s been recording their conversations. Including this one, right now.”

“If that’s alright with you, Zhengting,” you added on the stipulation, making sure everyone was comfortable with and had knowledge of you recording.

“Sure,” he shrugged, then seemed to realize something. “Wait— _all_ of them? _Everything_?”

You nearly spit out the coffee you had just sipped on, taking a moment to swallow it before laughing along with your boyfriend, “No, only the ones that pertain to the article. So not _everything_.”

“I just _had_ to ask.”

“And Ten’s the one who recorded him asking me out. I had the voice recorder turned off and he turned it back on to ask me out.”

“You _are_ melodramatic, Dr. Li.”

“As if you two didn’t already know that about me,” Ten shook his head affectionately at his co-workers.

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way,” Aojuan turned the conversation back to where you had really wanted it to be, speaking to Zhengting as she expanded on her previous explanation. “Y/N wants embarrassing stories of Dr. Li, and I think we are the most qualified to supply her with this information.”

Zhengting looked like a kid on Christmas morning, “We absolutely are. Oh, I’ve been waiting for this opportunity for years!”

“I don’t think I want to be here for this,” Ten announced, kissing the top of your head. “I’m going to check in with some other people, I’ll come find you in a bit.”

“Bye, Ten,” you fondly watched him leave the room. Once he was out of your sight, you turned back to the other two still left in the lounge with you, “Alright, where were we?”

* * *

A few weeks after meeting Aojuan, Zhengting, and a few of Ten’s other coworkers, you found yourself back at the hospital. This time you had met up with Ten for his short lunch break. He couldn’t take lunch off-campus today because of a specific patient that had been barely stabilized in the ER earlier. At any moment, he could be needed.

But you were perfectly content with having your lunch date in the cafeteria, just happy to see him again. You had just swiped a fry from his tray—much to his annoyance—when his eyes drifted from you to something just past your shoulder.

You turned your head to see if you could spot what had caught his attention. Three figures were approaching you. Two were adults, elderly, with wrinkles that told of many years behind them, the man gripping a cane with his left hand and the wire of a hearing aid snaking behind the woman’s ear. With them was a little girl who didn’t look old enough to even be out of primary school. She clutched a small rabbit with both hands, eyes that barely peeked out from under bangs trained downwards on her purple jelly sandals as they all came to a stop beside your table.

When you looked to Ten for some kind of explanation, your question stopped in your throat. His knuckles were white as he gripped his fork too harshly, brow furrowed as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. A pained and pensive expression was across his features, emotional depth that you’d never seen him have before.

“Y/N,” your boyfriend’s voice was tense, as if he was forcing it to be emotionless and monotone. “I think I left my prescription pad in my office; would you mind getting that for me?”

“Sure, of course,” you slowly stood up, accepting that he clearly did not want you involved in whatever was about to happen. You grabbed his hand that was on the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze before taking leave of the cafeteria.

* * *

Taking your time with your fake mission, you made sure they had plenty of time to deal with… whatever they were going to deal with. You even took the stairs to the third floor where Ten’s office was located, a much slower option than the elevator. As you opened the door to his office, your thoughts were stuck on the situation you’d just left.

Who were those people? His family, maybe? You couldn’t be sure of anything, there were too many uncertainties and scenarios bouncing around your head that you’d give yourself a migraine trying to figure it all out.

Ten had in fact left his prescription pad in his office—as he always did, considering he didn’t give out a lot of prescriptions as a surgeon.

With the pad secured in your hand, you made your way back to the cafeteria as slowly as you had left it. When you were at the threshold, you looked to your table to see if the other people were still there. It seemed as if they were just leaving, the man patting Ten’s shoulder before the three of them turned and started walking away.

You stayed at the doorway, frozen. The sight they left behind was one that was new to you. Ten hunched over, taking deep but tremoring breaths as he hid his face with his arms and the table. The part of his forehead that you could see was red, and his chest heaved and shook. He was crying.

With wide eyes, you turned your gaze to the elderly couple and little girl as they came closer to you. You expected them to pass right by you and leave. But instead, they stopped in front of you. The man’s eyes were clearly moist, the woman using her sleeve to dab at her own few tears that were falling, hand holding tight to the smaller hand of the little girl whose sniffles were muffled by her stuffed animal.

It was the woman who addressed you, voice surprisingly strong as she asked you, “Are you Dr. Li’s girlfriend?”

“I…” You couldn’t formulate an answer, still too shocked by the sight of Ten crying.

“Do you care for him?”

This question from the man brought you back down to Earth.

“Of course.”

The woman grabbed your hand with the one that wasn’t holding the little girl’s, her grip warm and motherly as she requested, “Remind him that it’s not his fault, every day. Please.”

The entire experience felt surreal as you asked, “What’s not his fault?”

She only gave you a sorrowful smile before the three of them continued their journey out of the cafeteria. You looked over at your table again.

In the time it had taken you to have that unreal conversation with them, Ten had managed to compose himself a little bit. He was sitting up straight again, fervently chugging from his water bottle as his breathing seemed a lot more even. As you carefully approached him, you could see that his eyes were still swollen and red, but his face seemed dry and free from tears at least.

“Here,” you murmured quietly, holding the prescription pad out to him.

Ten immediately beamed up at you, accepting it from your hands, “Thanks, Y/N!”

You slid into the booth across from him, cautious, but concerned. With that resolve, you were able to question, “Ten, who were they?”

“Patient’s family,” he answered casually.

“They were crying.”

“Oh, just overjoyed that I saved their son’s life, happens all the time,” the brash indifference that he brushed your concern away with only made you more deeply troubled. “Now, I have such a good story to tell you about Yangyang and Chenle from boarding school.”

You weren’t dumb, you knew full well that he was fibbing and changing the topic to avoid discussing it. And Ten knew you weren’t dumb. But you both pretended to not have this knowledge, as he told you the story and you let him.

As he told this tale of Yangyang and Chenle breaking into the dining hall to steal ice cream on a dare from a couple of the older boys, you almost wanted to curse yourself for getting involved with your subject. If you were just purely a journalist and not also his girlfriend, you would’ve been able to push and get the truth from him. But you couldn’t make yourself do that. You just couldn’t.

* * *

The semester, your article, and your patience were nearing their ends. Your patience with what, exactly? Your boyfriend, of course. You’d been dating for months now, but nothing had changed. Sure, you had a drawer of stuff at his place and spent any nights he had off together there, had plenty of inside jokes, little nicknames to call each other, and he’d even unofficially met your mother after she had called you while you were out with him. But your relationship didn’t feel any deeper than it had at the beginning.

Your perception of Ten hadn’t changed at all. If someone had asked you now and after the first night you met him, who Ten was, your answers wouldn’t be any different. You didn’t know a lot about him emotionally.

And sure, you might know the entire timeline of his life from your interview, but you also knew nothing about _him_. He still was the same happy, flirtatious, playful, and cheerful man you’d met in the lounge that first night. He felt _too_ happy, almost… artificially joyful.

Any time you almost were able to find out some kind of flaw or sadness within him, something not surface-level—like the mysterious family from the hospital cafeteria—he’d shut you down. Push you away. Layer on the saccharine sweetness and affection. Double down with counterfeit contentment and pseudo-sunniness.

It was tiring, having him throw up wall after wall every time it felt like you were getting remotely close to him. After he’d mentioned his fondness of cats, you’d suggested that the two of you get one, together. He shot you down, claiming that his work schedule was too hectic to care for another living creature. Didn’t even want to listen to your very good point that yours wasn’t, and you could easily take care of it while he was on shift.

Today, however, you’d had enough.

Ten had just coyly avoided giving an actual answer to your very serious question of how he deals with knowing that his decisions are often life-or-death ones. And he’d done it with a joke.

“Woah, that’s a little dark, Y/N,” he chuckled lightly. “Like the guys said before, I’m a hero! Never lost a patient! It’s not that serious!”

That was it. You shoved the hand he had on your leg off, shooting to your feet and grabbing your voice recorder from the table. Stuffing your feet back into the sneakers you’d taken off earlier to sit more comfortably on his couch, you shook your head in disappointment.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Ten had reached out for your hand, but you wrenched it away from him.

“I’m tired of you avoiding anything remotely serious with me, Ten. With the interview and with us. I could stand the skirting around the subject, but now you just fucking _lied to me_ ,” you finally unleashed everything you’d built up inside you, getting genuinely angry as you continued on. “Or at least I _hope_ you just lied to me, because if that’s actually the attitude you have about your job, that is absolutely _terrifying_.”

The ‘ _click!_ ’ of your voice recorder turning off in the deathly silent room signified that it was over. What exactly? You couldn’t give specifics, but in that moment, it could have been anything. Your conversation, your interview, your relationship. Anything.

Pivoting on your heel, you stormed out of his apartment, not so subtly slamming his door behind you.

* * *

_“Y/N. Y/L/N Y/N.”_

_“Do you have to be so melodramatic?”_

_“Yes. Now, I say this with as much adoration as possible: could you shut up for a second?”_

_Silence._

_“Y/L/N Y/N. Despite me being a little shit at first—which I cannot guarantee will stop—would you do me the honor of going on a real date with me?”_

Pause. Rewind. Play.

_“Y/L/N Y/N. Despite me being a little shit at first—which I cannot guarantee will stop—would you do me the honor of going on a real date with me?”_

Pause. Rewind. Play.

_“Y/L/N Y/N. Despite me being a little shit at first—which I cannot guarantee will stop—would you do me the honor of going on a real date with me?”_

Pause. Rewind.

Before you could hit play again on the small device in your hand, there was a knock at your doorframe. Your current position of laying on your side on top of your covers in a pathetic near-fetal position made looking at whoever was at the entrance very easy.

It was Chengxiao, uniform from her work still on. She must have just gotten back from her shift.

Only a few days had passed since your fight with Ten, most of it spent with you digging through voice recordings to keep adding to your article. But when you’d made it to this specific snippet, you found yourself unable to continue on. It reminded you of a better time, when you had hope for your blossoming relationship, when you weren’t weighed down by the knowledge that you had now: Ten didn’t want you to actually know him. The real him.

Chengxiao sat down beside you, your mattress dipping from her added weight. She ran her fingers through your hair quietly. You weren’t crying, you weren’t even that sad. After all, how could you miss someone you never actually knew?

“Have you eaten dinner yet? Yi and I are going to order delivery right now,” she offered.

Thankfully, she didn’t comment when you pressed play on your recorder, Ten’s voice filling the quiet between you two.

_“Y/L/N Y/N. Despite me being a little shit at first—which I cannot guarantee will stop—would you do me the honor of going on a real date with me?”_

You sighed. This was ridiculous.

Setting the voice recorder down on your nightstand, you pushed yourself up into a sitting position, Chengxiao moving to give you room to do so.

The sound of rain hitting your window was background music to you hugging your knees to your chest and resting your chin on them.

You thought for a moment before answering, “I’d love to have dinner with you two. Just my usual, not feeling too adventurous tonight.”

Your friend grinned, ruffling up the hair she had just fixed as she stood back up, “Nice, I’ll go tell Xuanyi. We’re going to put on some bad rom-coms to watch with it. First one starts after we order the food, don’t miss it.”

“I’ll be out,” you promised. “Give me a minute.”

After she left, you swung your legs over to dangle off your bed, toes just touching your floor. You stretched briefly, cracking your knuckles to start loosening up your body. Just as you had stood up and cracked your back too, you heard a ringing coming from under your mess of pillows. Digging around, you secured your phone, hoping that it wasn’t Ten calling you. You weren’t sure what you would do if it was.

But thankfully, you didn’t have to figure that out anytime soon, as the caller ID was Kun.

You picked up, absentmindedly watching the rain outside pound against your bedroom window as you said, “Hey, Kun. How are you?”

Your pilot friend completely skipped over greetings, “Is Ten with you?”

“Uh no, I haven’t seen him in a few days. Why?”

“We were supposed to get dinner tonight and he’s well over an hour late. Usually he texts or calls if he needs to cancel or if he’s going to be late.”

“How dare he.”

“Y/N,” the seriousness with which he said your name stopped your banter in its tracks. Kun hadn’t called to complain about his friend. This was something else.

You couldn’t freak out quite yet, there were plenty of other reasonable and safe options as to where Ten could be, “Did you call the hospital? Maybe he got stuck in the OR and can’t text you.”

“I did, they said he wasn’t scheduled for tonight or called in for any sort of emergency procedure.”

“The other VIP members maybe?” You desperately tried to control your breathing and heartrate.

“Sicheng is at a red-carpet event, Dejun is at his brother’s graduation, Yukhei is on some remote island, Yangyang is in Germany visiting his family, which only leaves you and Hendery. But you already said he’s not with you, and Hendery cursed me out for interrupting his work, so it’s safe to say Ten isn’t with him either.”

There was still another possibility, however far-fetched, “His parents?”

“Y/N, they’re in another country.”

“I know.”

The worry that had previously been crawling through your veins now shot through your whole body completely unhindered. _Ten is missing._

The rain that had previously been soothing to you seemed so much more menacing. _Ten is missing._

Without another thought, you hung up on Kun. _Ten is missing._

You clicked on Ten’s contact, nearly breaking your phone screen with the force that you pushed the call button. _Ten is missing._

It rang and rang and rang. _Ten is missing._

When you got his voicemail, you called again. _Ten is missing._

After the fifth unsuccessful call, you shoved boots onto your feet and burst out of your room. _Ten is missing._

Chengxiao and Xuanyi stood to watch you with concern as you threw on a random raincoat hanging off a chair in your kitchen and secured an umbrella leaning by your front door. _Ten is missing._

You gave them some kind of reason as to why you were about to go out in this storm before throwing open your front door. _Ten is missing._

The umbrella didn’t do much to shield you from the rain that was striking you sideways, but you barely registered the chilly wetness that permeated your skin. _Ten is missing._

How long you had been desperately running around the city was lost to you, but you’d made it to his apartment. _Ten is missing._

After letting yourself in with the spare key you knew he hid under his neighbor’s doormat, any hopes you had left of him being okay, of sitting on his couch and revealing that this was all a big joke were crushed when the lights were off and it was void of any life. _Ten is missing._

You were on the streets again, lightning illuminating the completely empty sidewalks you were on, nobody else wanted to be out in this weather. _Ten is missing._

Your phone rang in your pocket, and you hugged the wall under an awning to bring it out. _Ten is missing._

The caller ID was unknown, but you picked up nonetheless. _Ten is missing._

“Y/N?” The voice was familiar to you, but you couldn’t place it, not with the mess that your mind was in right then.

“Ten?” You asked weakly, clinging onto any shred of hope.

“No, this is Zhengting.”

Your heart plummeted.

“But Dr. Li is okay, he’s here in the ER, and you should really come.”

You’d stopped listening as soon as he said where Ten was, breaking out into a run along the sidewalks again. Thankfully, Ten’s apartment wasn’t too far from the hospital. Not that it mattered to you, you probably would’ve ran a marathon to get to where he was.

* * *

Zhengting greeted you at the front desk of the ER, immediately grabbing your shaking hands to re-center you, “Y/N, look at me for a second.”

You’d been frantically looking around the space, the multitude of beds, cots, carts, and people, desperately trying to find Ten.

“Y/N,” he repeated your name, much sterner this time.

Your gaze focused on him, a shaky breath leaving your nose.

“He’s not out here, he’s in a private room, due to the… sensitive nature of his situation.”

“What happened to him?”

“I can’t tell you everything, patient confidentiality. But I can tell you that we found him standing in the parking lot outside the doors where patients are released from, and he said something that was cause for concern.”

At the distress that came to your features, Zhengting quickly went to reassure you again, “He’s going to be just fine; I promise. He just really should see you right now. Are you up for that?”

“Yes,” you practically whimpered, knees trembling.

“Alright, come on.”

Zhengting guided you down the hallways with a gentle but firm hand on your elbow. You were grateful for it, it felt like he was supporting you both metaphorically and physically. Like you might have collapsed if he didn’t have a hold on you in some way.

He stopped in front of one of the rooms, turning the door handle and pushing it open for you.

Everything was numb, dull, and blank. You felt nothing, nothing mattered.

Until you caught sight of Ten.

He was sitting cross-legged on the bed that was in the center of the room. A hospital gown covered his thin frame, an IV coming from his arm and wires attached to electrodes on his chest. The machines he was hooked up to beeped with his heartrate, a sound that you were so glad to hear.

For the first time ever he looked… weak. Like all the life had been drained from him, his spirit sucked out. For the first time ever, you knew that he wasn’t going to give you a bright smile, or tease you about looking like a wet dog, or try to make you blush by saying something dumb along the lines of how he’d still fuck you _despite_ you looking like a wet dog. He wasn’t going to do any of those things, and you didn’t know how you felt about that.

Ten looked up at you, and it was his eyes that made you lose it. They were filled with tears and such a deep sadness that you’d never expected to ever see within them.

You couldn’t say who had started crying first, but the two of you were in tears before you’d even crossed the room to his bed.

Yours were tears of relief, all the agonizing anxiety of his safety being washed away with them as you clutched him tightly to your chest.

Ten’s that would’ve soaked through your shirt if it wasn’t already damp from the rain, were different than yours. Sobs hiccupped through him, but you still clung tight to him. You didn’t want to let go of him again.

He was mumbling something against you, but you couldn’t make it out, not sure if you even wanted to. You were afraid that whatever he was going to say would ruin it. Ruin the catastrophic swirling of emotions going on inside you. Make all your worry and care that you had for him worthless because he still wasn’t going to open up to you.

So you kept your iron grip on him steadfast, wanting to hold onto this moment for just a little longer. And Ten let you, tucked neatly under your chin and arms looped around your waist. You could feel him shivering. Or maybe you were the one shivering.

The next time he tried to pull back, you let him, taking one of your hands in a futile attempt to wipe at the hot tears spilling down your cheeks. Ten wasn’t faring any better on the not-crying front, rivers still streaming down from his eyes, biting his lip to keep the sobs at bay.

“Y/N,” his voice cracked over your name, bringing a new wave of pain to your chest.

“Ten,” you whispered his name in response, grasping for his hand. “What happened?”

“I… took too many pills.”

Fear seized you once again at this revelation, and Ten quickly went to smooth it over.

“I didn’t want to kill myself. I just… wanted a break. From everything. Surgery, the expectations, the pedestal I’m put on as this superhero, the hospital, the Liu’s… everything. I wasn’t thinking. I really did just want a break. Please believe me, I didn’t want to die.”

“I believe you.”

“That’s why as soon as they found me, I told them what I did. So they’d help me. I didn’t want to die, Y/N. I didn’t.”

“I believe you, Ten,” you repeated, using your other hand to stroke his hair. “I believe you.”

“I don’t want to die.”

“I believe you.”

“There’s more. I—” he ducked his head, bringing your linked hands up to his face as he was lost in a bout of sobs again. You let him go, let him cry and slobber over your knuckles as he struggled to find his words once more.

He tried again, “I… I did lie to you. Since the first day we met. I’m not a hero. I lost a patient. I still—I still know the exact date and time. Eighteen hours and thirty-six minutes before… we met at that party. His name was Michael Liu, he was thirty years old. Those were his parents, and his daughter Zhangli in the cafeteria. She’s seven years old and has to grow up without her father because of me.”

“No, Ten,” you gripped his hand with both of yours, much firmer. The words that Michael Liu’s mother had said to you that day made sense now. “His mother told me to remind you that it’s not your fault. She told me to tell you that every day, and I will. It’s not your fault. They’ve forgiven you, now forgive yourself. Please.”

Ten nodded. It was a jerky but resolute nod, “I’ll try. I really will.”

Now with some little bit of clarity, you realized that it really was you who was shaking. The stress and emotional turmoil that had built up in your body left your muscles trembling. Ten gently moved you to be fully on his hospital bed with him. You knew full well that you were probably still cold and wet, but that didn’t seem to bother him as he settled you between his legs with your back to his chest, enveloped by his warmth. You were now able to feel his steady heartbeat and deep breaths that the monitors had promised you. Just knowing that he was okay—really and truly okay—brought you to tears again.

“I was scared, Ten,” you admitted to him, turning your head to be able to bury your face in the crook of his neck.

Feeling that you were crying again, one of his thumbs wiped at the few tears he could reach from the current position.

“I’m sorry.”

You were silent for a moment, just letting yourself be held by Ten, nothing else mattering to you at all right then.

“Y/N, your skin is cold,” he murmured, warmer hands smoothing over your chilly arms.

He tugged at the blanket underneath you insistently. Once he freed it, he wrapped it around the two of you.

“The rain is cold.”

“Yeah, it is,” he agreed, gently resting his head against yours and halting his fingers on your stomach, rubbing gentle patterns there. “I am so sorry. For everything I put you through, not just tonight. I absolutely avoided anything serious. It made everything easier, to pretend like I could be carefree and not have to deal with anything. I avoided talking about Michael, and I avoided my feelings for you. Because they are serious, and deep, and that shit’s scary.”

You chuckled lightly at his phrasing, bringing your face back out of the crook of his neck to instead look at your hands as you played with his fingers.

“But I don’t want to avoid them anymore, and I’m so sorry that I ever did in the first place. I want to _actually_ move in with you, and get a cat together, and formally meet your parents, and fly you out to Thailand to meet mine, and…” He took a deep breath, voice even stronger as he continued, “to tell you that I love you.”

Your motions stilled. A sharp inhale of your own was followed by the beeps of Ten’s vitals steadily increasing. He was nervous, getting more-so with each second that you didn’t say or do anything.

Sitting up from where you had been leaning against his chest, you turned to be able to look at him. Look at the beautiful man that had just professed his love for you. You wanted to say it back, but you couldn’t. You just didn’t know enough about him yet. So instead, you threaded your fingers through the black locks of hair above the nape of his neck and pulled his lips to crash against yours. And hopefully, he could feel it through the kiss. Your promise to say it to him later, say it once you had truly fallen in love with who he really was.

You loosened your grip on his hair, and he did the same with the hands that were at your arms. Just loose enough for you to be able to whisper, your lips barely ghosting over his, “We should get a black cat.”

“And what should we name him?” Ten replied, making no move to widen the distance between the two of you.

“What’s a _really good_ cat pun that we can make with any of your _four_ names?”

Suddenly you were back in Ten’s arms, his body practically vibrating as he laughed. You were laughing too, giggles bubbling up before you could stop them as he kept hugging you through his laughing fit. It wasn’t that funny, but you knew it went deeper than just that.

_It went deeper than just that._

* * *

Since that night, things had changed. Ten, your relationship, and even _you_ had changed. And for the better.

Your original plan was to not include anything about that night in the hospital. It was too personal, you reasoned. But Ten begged you to write it into the article, desperately pleading with half-eaten pizza in his mouth as the two of you had been in the middle of a stay-in date night at his place.

“It’ll tarnish your reputation, Ten.”

“That’s the point,” he insisted. “My reputation is too big, too much. If they just knew that I wasn’t some perfect, suave superhero, I wouldn’t… you know, end up in the rain again.”

With a painful twinge in your chest, you nodded, “I know, Ten. But it’ll tarnish the hospital’s reputation too. They’d fire you.”

He sighed, looking very dejected as he swallowed the pizza.

“So, it looks like I’ll just have to completely scrub _your_ testimony and rely on my _anonymous confidant_ at an unknown hospital with experience in the high-stakes medical profession.”

Ten only gave you a peek of his bright grin before he pulled your mouth to his. The kiss tasted like the pizza you’d just been eating, but you didn’t care. It was Ten, and that was all that mattered.

That was the first notion to you that he was well and truly opening up to you. He was letting himself address the serious things in his life.

* * *

“You look stunning, darling,” Ten complimented you as he walked up behind where you were appraising yourself in the mirror.

Tonight, you two were going to some red-carpet event Dejun and Sicheng were having for their first blockbuster movie premiere. Ten had arrived to pick you up almost an hour too early—already in his impressive suit and looking like a million bucks while you were still in your pajamas—so now he was waiting patiently with you in your room as you got ready.

“Oh I know, it’s just a little wrinkly,” you said with some humor in your voice, smoothing out a few unfortunate wrinkles in the material of your outfit. “And I don’t like that one either.”

He’d been spending the past week trying to find a pet name for you, and so far, you hadn’t approved of any of them.

“I’m sorry, my love,” his arms snaked around your waist to pull you back into him.

That made you grin before you could even think about it, a happy flush coming to your cheeks.

He definitely noticed this, small smirk coming to his lips, “You like that one, my love?”

You nodded, humming in content as you felt him press kisses your cheek and neck, softly repeating the name over and over between each one.

* * *

It all finally struck you sometime later as you walked into your new apartment after a long day of meetings at the journal, setting your bag down beside Ten’s on your countertop. You picked up the elegant black cat who had wrapped herself around your legs and she purred with delight as you cradled her in your arms, venturing further in to search for Ten. He wasn’t too far from the entryway, already lumbering down the hallway from your bedroom to greet you. He seemed to be struggling to keep his eyes open, a yawn splitting his mouth as if he’d just woken up.

“Hi, my love,” he murmured before locking his lips with yours.

After he’d successfully rendered you breathless and dizzy, he disconnected your mouths, seeming satisfied with his job of leaving you flustered.

“Hi,” you repeated, voice turning from dreamy to fondly chastising as the feline in your arms started rubbing her face against your bicep. “So needy, Lucy.”

“We both missed you,” Ten had a near pout on his lips as he followed you to the couch, carefully dragging you onto his lap, ever so mindful of your pet.

A delightful smell drifted to your nose from the kitchen as you settled onto his lap.

“Were you cooking or napping when I walked in?”

“I cooked, then was about to take a nap when I heard the door open.”

You had a small frown across your features, “You could’ve taken a nap, Ten. I know you had a tough surgery last night. You weren’t even back when I left this morning.”

“Like I said,” he kissed you again. “I missed you, my love.”

After a peaceful and comfortable silence had descended over the three of you, with you absentmindedly stroking Lucy’s fur and Ten absentmindedly running his fingers through your hair, your boyfriend suddenly spoke up.

“Hey Y/N, thanks.”

You looked at him with interest, “For what?”

“Taking a chance on me, I know you were kind of hesitant at the beginning. And the middle. So thanks, for giving me a chance.”

Pecking his forehead, you smiled down at him, “Well, thanks for letting me take that chance even though you knew I was hesitant.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

It was then. Right then, that it all struck you. The first time you’d said those three words back to him. Which was something he had definitely noticed, nuzzling his nose against your cheek as he was absolute beaming.

This was where you were always meant to be. The only place you really wanted to be, for the rest of your life. With Ten.

* * *

_true ending unlocked_

* * *

Your cheeks were hurting as you clinked glasses with your friends. They were all yelling out various forms of congratulations to you, and you rushed to thank them all with a wide grin. Your professor had loved your piece, and now you were celebrating her choosing it to be published with the other members of the VIP lounge, as well as your other two friends who had finally convinced you to let them into the lounge.

Chengxiao elbowed your side supportively as Xuanyi reached over from her other side to tousle your hair a bit.

“I regret letting you two come,” you glared at them.

“I didn’t do anything!” Xiao said defensively. “Get mad at Xuanyi!”

“I am.”

Xuanyi stuck her tongue out at you, making the others laugh at your friendly bickering.

“But really, _of_ _course_ you had to let us come, since you don’t live with us anymore we barely see you,” Chengxiao lamented, but you knew that she really was happy for you.

At the mention of you moving out, you couldn’t help but glance to your other side, exchanging a soft smile with your boyfriend. Ten had donned the same emerald suit jacket you’d met him in and was resting his hand just above your knee. He squeezed it just a little, a small reminder that he was there, and he loved you.

“And because we’re now paying half the rent instead of a third,” Xuanyi pointed out.

Any warm fuzzies you had from your short interaction with Ten were gone as you rolled your eyes at your bitter friend, “It is _not_ my fault that you two refuse to get another roommate.”

“Nobody could ever replace you in our hearts, Y/N!” Chengxiao declared dramatically.

“And you think _I’m_ melodramatic?” Ten murmured in your ear, making you snort.

“You are,” you shot back, just as quiet, even though you were well aware that everyone was focused on the pair of you.

“Speak up, lovebirds!” Yangyang complained, tossing a peanut from the snack bowl at you.

You ducked to avoid it, the small projectile soaring directly into Ten’s eye. The man hissed in surprise, and you couldn’t contain your snickers at him.

“Are you sure you want them to, Yang? What if it’s plans for Ten to give her another lap dance?” Kun had joined in on teasing him this time.

Yangyang gulped, “Never mind! I don’t think I want to know what you just said. How was everyone’s day? Xuanyi, Chengxiao, we don’t know anything about you two! What do you guys do for a living? It’s nothing weird, sexual, or uncomfortable, right?”

Xuanyi looked over at you and Ten with an eyebrow raised, “What did you two do to this poor boy?”

You locked eyes with Ten for a brief moment before both of you looked back to Xuanyi and shrugged in unison.


End file.
